


Read-Only Memory

by HankTheShank



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Loss, M/M, Memories, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HankTheShank/pseuds/HankTheShank
Summary: Struggling to come to terms with the loss of his beloved, a Guardian turns to his past.
Relationships: Original Exo Character(s) (Destiny)/Original Human Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I find the concept of exo resets really fascinating, and wanted to explore it in a fictional work. And make it heaps gay. Enjoy!

Sacha stares at the chest. 

The pale blue glow of its locking mechanism seems to glare at him, its black form lurking ominously in the shadows cast by the stacks of crates and boxes in the late-day sun.

Eventually, he sighs. Brushing a few dark strands of hair away from his eyes, he crosses the wooden floorboards and drops to his knees, kneeling before the chest. 

_It’s been long enough,_ he tells himself.

<< _Do you really want to do this? I mean, is now a good time? You told Hawthorne we’d be out of here by this evening - the new Guardian will be moving in tomorrow._ >> Messier hovers over his right shoulder, segments of his shell shifting restlessly as he glances back and forth between the chest and his Guardian.

“If I can get rid of some of this stuff, that’s less junk I have to move,” Sacha snaps. “I’ll try to be quick.” He adds, less harshly, dragging the chest out of the shadows and into the afternoon light.

<< _Okay. I’ll give you some space._ >> Messier vanishes in a puff of Light. 

Sacha takes a deep breath. As he opens the chest with the press of a button, his fingertip leaving an imprint in the layer of dust coating the lid, he is hit with an all-too familiar scent. _His_ scent _._ A lump forms in his throat.

* * *

_You were sitting on the couch whilst you waited for him to come home, beginning to doze off in front of the Crucible match you were half-watching on the datapad in your lap, when you heard the knock at your door._

_You can’t exactly recall what was said, but you will never forget the look on Zavala’s face, nor the awful sensation of the pit in your stomach._

An unexpected ambush. Wrong place at the wrong time. Ghost didn't make it. Too dangerous to recover the body - the safety of the rest of the fireteam was a priority _, as he's sure you would understand-_

* * *

Quickly shutting the lid, Sacha closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, suppressing the memory as if shutting the steel door of a vault. After a few moments, he re-opens the lid, attempting to distract himself by rummaging through the chest. 

The first item he comes across is a hunter’s cloak. _I thought he threw this one out,_ Sacha thinks, frowning as he rubs the ragged, scorched edges of the fabric. 

Prompted by the familiar sight, a crystal-clear image of the cloak’s bearer appears in his mind, standing in the doorway of Sacha’s apartment, glowing yellow optics peering over his shoulder to survey the damage. _I think it’s time for a new cloak, the exo says. Came a little too close to an ogre during the mission today. He walks towards Sacha as he undoes the clasp around his neck-_

Tears begin to sting at the corners of his eyes, pulling him back to the present. 

Another deep breath. As he exhales, he is reminded of something he once heard a warlock say. _Each time the human brain recalls a memory, it is rewritten back to the hippocampus afterwards. But the rewrite isn’t perfect: the integrity of a memory diminishes each time it is recalled._

As a Guardian, Sacha had faced up against no small number of terrifying ordeals; but cursed with a potentially indefinite lifetime, the thought of someday being unable to remember his face, his voice, even his name - that is the thing that scares him the most. 

_Inhale_. _Exhale_. 

He forces his attention to the task at hand.

Carefully lifting the cloak out, he sifts through the items in the chest. Nothing too surprising: a spare set of greaves, a few throwing knives (bent out of shape, but not beyond-repair), a few datapads and communication devices, a toolkit for equipment repairs - 

Sacha frowns as he lifts a locked metal box from the bottom of the chest. Despite having thrown all of the items in the chest himself - _I guess we all have different ways of processing grief,_ Messier had remarked at the time - he can’t recall this box, although if he’s honest he can’t remember much from those weeks at all.

_Rafael-7,_ the label on the lid of the box reads, in large, meticulously neat letters. Below, in smaller font, _To be opened in the event of reset._

Sacha pauses, box resting in his hands. He wasn’t too sure how exo resets worked. Rafael had never brought it up, and in all honesty, Sacha had been too afraid to ask. Would he recognise Sacha at all? Would he retain _any_ of his memories, or would he be a blank slate? What if he became a completely different person? In some ways, that was more terrifying than-

_Inhale_. _Exhale_.

Motes of dust dance past Sacha’s eyes, appearing and disappearing as they meander through the slanted beams of light filtering in from the world outside. He brings his eyes back into focus. _Right_. The box.

Using his thumb to pry open the metal clasp, he opens the lid, revealing a hand-written paper note resting on top of the box’s contents. Sacha smiles slightly, remembering Rafael’s hobby of studying antiquated transcription techniques. 

_Dear Rafael-7,_

_If you are reading this, it is because you have been reset. The aim of this box is to attempt to trigger your long-term memory circuits in such a way as to restore your - my - memory._

_I cannot guarantee that it will work, but there is no harm in trying._

_Regards,_

_Rafael-6_

Sacha had no idea that Rafael had prepared anything like this. Wondering whether it was normal for exos to create a “reset kit”, he gingerly removes the note, taking care not to crease the paper, and lays it on the floor beside him.

Plastic dividers separate the box into compartments, each sized to fit the objects within. The meticulous neatness of the arrangement makes him smile. _Classic Rafael._

He lifts the largest item out of the box, nestled in the upper left-hand corner. A heavily scratched plate of Hive chitin, the size of his palm, one edge ragged where it had been sheared off from a larger piece, resting atop a neatly folded square of paper. Setting the chitin to one side, he lifts out the paper and unfolds it. Another handwritten note.

_This piece of Hive chitin is from one of the very first patrols you were assigned after being resurrected as a Guardian,_ _just having completed basic training. You were sent to Titan to help Sloane - one of the Vanguard’s scouts - collect intelligence about the Hive. It was your first time fighting them outside the simulators. You took home this piece of chitin because you admired the subtle, swirling grain in the material._

_This patrol also happened to be the first time Sacha died._

Before he can stop them, memories of the patrol flood Sacha’s mind like a bubble forcing its way to the ocean’s surface.

* * *

“No way!”

“Yeah, man, it was _awesome_. There were people dancing on poles, people throwing knives at each other, fire twirling - I _swear_ I saw Zavala there, too,” said Amrita incredulously.

Sacha laughed. “As if. That could have been _any_ bald Awoken dude.”

“No, no - it was _definitely_ him!”

“I never would have picked him for a circus fan! I’ll have to check it out next time I’m in the City. Maybe when there’s a break in our roster?” said Sacha, excited by the prospect of doing something _fun_. Having been at it for a month or so, the novelty of fighting aliens for the Vanguard was starting to wear off.

“Totally,” said Amrita. “Have you been to any of the Solstice events, Rafael?” she added, having no intention of letting the exo stay silent for the entire journey.

He looked towards the two, expressionless. “Not really my thing.” He said flatly, before turning back to resume gazing out the window.

Sacha made a face and shrugged at Amrita, the universal gesture of “well, you tried.” 

The orders from Sloane came in over the radio, breaking the awkward silence as the jumpship approached Titan’s surface. It was a routine patrol: their task was to recover sacred Hive tablets from Acolytes, as part of a broader intelligence-gathering mission. 

Itching to get moving after sitting still for what felt like hours, Sacha ran towards the nearest Hive-encrusted doorway as soon as his feet touched the Rig’s surface. 

As he approached the dark entrance, he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the foul smell penetrating his helmet’s filtration system. _I should probably replace the filters when I get ba-_

_Bang._

He landed flat on his back, the vibrations of the steel deck plating reverberating through his body.

Still registering what had just happened, Amrita appeared, hovering over his face. She was doubled over with laughter. “That was the most titan thing I’ve ever seen!” she half-cried, wiping tears from her eyes. Still giggling, she used her warlock glide to gracefully leap over Sacha’s prone body and into the dark corridor.

<< _I knew those pauldrons were a bad idea!_ >> Messier piped up in his ear. << _I think you’re going to have to go through the door sideways_.>> he added, helpfully.

Slowly coming to his feet, head throbbing, Sacha was about to snap at his Ghost for stating the obvious when he noticed Rafael standing a few feet away, looking at him expectantly.

“You go ahead, I’ll group up in a sec.” said Sacha. He could feel his cheeks turn crimson as he waved Rafael through the doorway, thanking the Traveller that his face was concealed by his helmet.

Something about Rafael always made him feel… embarrassed. Inadequate, perhaps. In every patrol they had completed since leaving training, Sacha hadn’t seen Rafael so much as break a sweat (if exos even sweated at all). He made everything look so _easy_ , and part of Sacha resented him for it. 

He stepped through the doorway - carefully this time - and joined the rest of his fireteam. 

Most of the patrol passed without incident; the Thrall creeped Sacha out, but were easy enough to kill with a punch if they got too close. The Acolytes - their prescribed target - were a little harder, but nothing he couldn’t handle. 

“We just need one more…” said Amrita, her Ghost’s torch following her gaze as she scanned the dark room, illuminating the motionless corpses of slain Hive.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sacha caught a glimpse of the tell-tale triangle of green lights at the end of a dark corridor in the corner of the room. “I’ve got it!” he cried, eager to make up for his embarrassing start to the patrol. He dashed for the corridor, heavy boots thundering on the slippery steel floor, slick with Hive blood.

Readying his shotgun as he executed a barely-controlled skid to follow the corridor around a bend, he came to an abrupt halt, only just avoiding a collision with what seemed like a wall of chitin. Sacha looked up, his eyes meeting the three he had spotted just moments ago. Fear barely had time to register in his mind as the Knight’s sword crashed down upon his helmet.

* * *

<< _Time to wake up, Guardian._ >>

Lying on his back, Sacha opened his eyes to the sight of Rafael and Amrita silhouetted against the blindingly pale sky, their outlines distorted by the raindrops falling on his helmet’s visor.

With horror, Sacha remembered the patrol… the Hive… the Knight. He reflexively brought his hands to his helmet, expecting to feel a deep gash where the sword hit, only to find it good as new.

“Did… did I die?”

<< _Sure did! I rezzed ya._ >> said Messier brightly, segments spinning excitedly as he drifted into view over Sacha’s face.

“That was your first rez, right? You never forget your first,” said Amrita, chuckling. “It takes a bit of getting used to, that’s for sure. I’ll go give the tablets to Sloane - you take your time.” she said, her face disappearing from his field of view.

Sacha sat up gingerly, expecting pain to flood his senses at any moment. But the pain never came.

_Huh, I feel… fine._

He rose to his feet. A little too quickly, as it turned out; as the blood rushed from his head, he was struck by a wave of dizziness, black spots dancing before his eyes. Just as he was about to hit the floor - lamenting the fact that he was going to embarrass himself in front of his fireteam for the second time that day - a hand gripped his forearm, yanking him upwards. 

Rafael’s somewhat rough, slightly metallic-sounding voice cut through the pitter-patter of the rain on the steel deck. “You okay?” The gleam of his yellow optics were just visible through the heavy tinting of his helmet. Although his expression was unreadable, was that... a hint of concern in his voice? It was hard to tell. He was not exactly what Sacha would call an expressive person, even for an exo.

Still holding Sacha’s arm, Rafael gripped his palm with his other hand, pulling him back upright. 

His hand was warmer than Sacha thought it would be.

He felt his face turn red.

“Yeah… yep. I’m fine. Just stood up too quickly, that’s all,” said Sacha hurriedly, shaking free of his grip.

“If you say so. See you back at the ship.”

Sacha stared at him as he walked off, still feeling slightly dazed by the whole ordeal. 

His brief reverie was broken by Messier, who appeared in a _puff_ a few inches from his face.

<< _Oh, I think I know what’s going on here._ >>

“And what would that be?” hissed Sacha, mindful that Rafael was only just out of earshot.

Messier theatrically flung his segments outwards, spinning them with a flourish - his equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t you say a word!”

The journey back to the Tower was uneventful, save for that Sacha swore he caught Rafael staring at him on a few occasions.

* * *

Sacha’s eyes widen as he forces himself back to the present.

Having laid undisturbed for so long - as if enabling himself a glimpse of a rare treasure, hidden away in a secret place - the memory is crystal-clear. He can almost feel Rafael’s grip on his forearm.

Bringing the chitin closer to his eyes, he notices the grain in the material, swirling rivers of streaks following no obvious pattern. Strangely beautiful for something belonging to one of the most destructive forces in the known Universe. _Poetic… just the sort of thing Rafael would appreciate,_ he thinks. It’s a strangely comforting thought.

He carefully replaces the note and the chitin back in the box, turning his attention to the next item.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A titan's protective instinct lands his fireteam in trouble.

He handles the next item delicately as he removes it from its compartment, taking care not to snag his fingers on its jagged edges. A twisted piece of metal, its surface slightly oily to the touch. The note beneath begins:

_Not long after the patrol on Titan, you were assigned a more challenging mission in the EDZ..._

He instantly remembers where he has seen the piece of shrapnel before. Its smell and feel only serve to make the memory more powerful; the recollection surges to the surface of his mind before he has time to finish reading the note.

* * *

It was chaos.

Panting, arms aching from the recoil of his shotgun, Sacha spun around to sucker-punch the Dreg clawing at his back, before pivoting back to unload a new round of shot into the one that had appeared - seemingly out of nowhere - on his left.

<< _The Fallen must_ really _value these weapons if they’re willing to sacrifice so many of their own to defend them._ >> Messier’s voice crackled in his ear, the Ghost safely tucked out of harm’s way.

Sacha was beginning to regret volunteering to guard the shipment; but as the titan of the fireteam, it was the most sensible option.

A brief lull in the combat, as he dispatched the last Dreg of the wave. A dozen metres to his left, he heard the distorted cry of a Vandal, followed by the sickening sound of Rafael’s knife being pulled from flesh; a few metres to his right, the screams of a Dreg and a solid _thud_ as its lifeless body fell from the ketch hovering above, an arrow from Amrita’s bow skewering its torso. The petrochemical smell of Ether filled his helmet.

Devrim’s radio transmitter _clicked_ over the fireteam communications line. “We’ll be in range to transmat the shipment in just a few moments. How are you holding up down there?” 

“Fine for now, but I don’t know how much longer I can-” Sacha began, the breath knocked out of him mid-sentence by the shockwave from Amrita’s nova bomb. 

“Captain’s down!” came Amrita’s triumphant proclamation over the radio.

“Good work, warlock. Hang in there - won’t be long. Over.”

Fending off the Dregs was like trying to bail out a sinking ship with his bare hands. He struggled to keep afloat, barely managing to reload his shotgun in between kills. 

After what felt like much longer than a few moments, the dropship arrived, blocking out the midday sun as it hovered overhead, trees surrounding the square buffeted by the ship’s engines.

_Click._ “Beginning transmat - sit tight. Over.”

Taking out yet another Dreg with a Void-infused punch, Sacha looked over to Rafael just as he executed a mid-air pirouette, a knife in each hand making deadly incisions in the neck of a Vandal. Landing gracefully in a crouch, he was perfectly positioned to pounce at the Marauder running towards him. Sacha paused to admire the manoeuvre. _How does he always manage to look so... cool?_

Sudden movement in a tree a few metres away caught Sacha’s attention. Rafael, fending off a flurry of knife stabs from the Marauder, was oblivious to the Vandal that had just poked its head out from the dense foliage of the tree above. Its helmet glinting in the midday sun, it hoisted its shrapnel cannon to its shoulder and took aim at Rafael.

Sacha sprinted over to the exo, boots skidding to a stop on the concrete as the _boom_ of the cannon echoed across the square. Taking a deep breath, he focused the Void Light within him. The purplish-blue bubble shield expanded rapidly around him, sending the Marauder flying; dull _thuds_ from bits of shrapnel ricocheting off the shield punctuated the muted cacophony of the scene outside.

Panting from the exertion, he turned around to look at Rafael, only to see that he’d been a fraction of a second too late. On his hands and knees, his back to Sacha, a violently jagged shard of metal jutted out awkwardly from Rafael’s right shoulder blade. Fluids and oils leaking from the wound ran in opalescent streams down the folds of his cloak, staining the ground below.

He twisted to look at Sacha, clutching his wounded shoulder with his left hand.

“Why the _fuck_ did you do that? Who’s guarding the shipment?”

Sacha turned to look at the shipment - or what was left of it. Dozens of Dregs and Vandals were swarming around the pallet like insects, flinging shreds of packing materials into the air. Some of the more successful Fallen leapt out of the pile cradling new weapons - exotic-looking guns, grenade and rocket launchers - before scurrying away, disappearing into the thrall. 

“Umm, I could use some help over here!” came Amrita’s voice, panicked, over the radio. Standing in a rift, she emptied magazine after magazine of her pulse rifle into the swarm, to little avail.

_Oh shit_. _Fuck_.

“What are you waiting for? I’ll be fine. Go and help her!” Rafael yelled, his voice becoming more and more distorted. He collapsed, his arms twisted awkwardly beneath his torso. The slick pool of fluids on the concrete formed a dull reflection of his body.

Sacha stared at the corpse.

<< _Uhh, Sacha?_ >>

Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and sprinted towards the shipment, anger blossoming in his chest as he flung himself into the writhing swarm.

* * *

The ride home was uncomfortable, to say the least.

_Don’t worry, we’ll get them next time,_ Devrim had said after abandoning the transmat attempt, clearly trying to make them feel better, although Sacha could hear the disappointment in his voice.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground before his feet. _All my fault. So stupid._

Knowing how to read the room, the usually talkative Amrita kept to herself, scrolling restlessly through articles on her datapad. 

Rafael sat by the window, looking out into the darkness, his arms folded. 

* * *

After an excruciatingly long journey, the jumpship finally arrived at the Tower. 

“I’m wiped. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” said Amrita, the moment her feet touched down onto the dock. Giving Sacha and Rafael a tired wave, she promptly walked off towards her quarters. 

“Me too. See ya later.” Sacha said to Rafael, desperate to return to his room - and be alone - as quickly as physically possible. 

Turning to leave, Sacha heard the exo’s metallic voice behind him. “Wait.”

With the click of a button on his neck, Rafael’s helmet disappeared. The late afternoon sun glinted off his black face plates. 

The moment Sacha saw his face, images of his helpless corpse flooded his mind’s eye.

He quickly averted his gaze to the ground. “I fucked it up. It was all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, we would have secured that shipment. I feel like a huge idiot. I-” Sacha’s voice quavered, his rambling interrupted by Rafael placing a hand on his upper arm. He lifted his head, Rafael’s yellow irises staring into his own.

“No, _I_ want to apologise. I’m sorry I got mad at you. You were trying to save me, and I appreciate that. We’re both still new to this. As Devrim said - we’ll get them next time.”

He gave his arm a slight squeeze.

“You’ll make a great titan - mindlessly running in to protect people is what they are best at, after all.” The exo’s faceplates shifted into an approximation of a smile.

He released his grip. “See you tomorrow, Sacha.” 

Rafael walked off. The first time he’d ever heard the exo make a joke, and it was at _his_ expense. _Robot bastard,_ he thought. 

He could still feel the imprint of Rafael’s hand on his arm.

Messier materialised in front of his face the instant Rafael was out of earshot.

<< _So... do you want to talk about this?_ >>

“Talk about what?”

<< _Rafael-6._ >>

“What is there to say?”

<< _You tell me._ >> replied Messier sassily. Sacha imagined that he’d be crossing his arms, if he had them.

“Nothing. Nothing!” Sacha said, exasperated.

<< _Suit yourself._ >> The Ghost disappeared, leaving vapours of Light in his wake.

_Smug drone bastard._

* * *

The numbing, tingling sensation in his lower legs brings Sacha back to the present. Cursing himself for sitting on his knees for too long, he replaces the note and the metal shard. He turns his body and outstretches his legs, waiting for the sting of the pins and needles to subside.

He yawns as he stretches his arms overhead. Part of him tells him to stop, to put the box away, that he should be savouring the memories like expensive chocolates; but the years spent repressing them has only made the recollections more powerful, more alluring. 

He shuffles back towards the box - en route yanking a cushion from a nearby box to sit on - and moves on to the next item in the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this chapter out a little ahead of schedule - the next one should be out in a few days :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take an unexpected turn for Sacha when Rafael invites him up to his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap yourselves in, folks, it's gonna get real gay in here.

Sacha frowns as he picks up a pair of chopsticks from the next compartment. The design etched into the wood looks familiar… but he struggles to recall where he’s seen them before. He unfolds the note beneath.

_Sacha left these chopsticks behind - presumably by accident - the first time he came to your apartment..._

* * *

<<Y _ou’re staring at him again!_ >> whispered Messier, purely for dramatic appeal, as Sacha was the only one that could hear him.

He quickly diverted his gaze, pretending to study his half-eaten bowl of ramen.

It had taken a month or two for Sacha to admit to himself that he had a crush on Rafael. He hated that word - he may have been a relatively new Guardian, but he wasn’t a _teenager._ Alas, there was no other way to put it. Messier said it would go away if he just stopped thinking about it.

Easier said than done.

What irritated Sacha the most was that he wasn’t even sure _why_ he was attracted to Rafael. Their personalities couldn’t be more different, and being around him only made him feel self-conscious.

That said… although he maintained his usual serious demeanour when they were out on duty, Rafael had loosened up somewhat. It was actually possible to hold a conversation with him now.

“... _Beep beep!_ Earth to Sacha!” Amrita’s bright voice derailed his train of thought.

Sacha straightened up, snapping to attention. “Huh? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“We were just discussing whether we prefer SMGs or sidearms. What do you prefer?”

Sacha leaned back into his chair and gazed up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “Definitely SMGs. Not a huge fan of sidearms. They just feel so… small. Like I’m firing a water pistol.”

Rafael scoffed. “I can’t imagine it’s easy to load bullets into the magazine with those gigantic hands of yours,” he said, balancing on the back two feet of his chair, idly tracing a pattern in the tablecloth with his index finger. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I can be very dexterous when I want to be,” said Sacha defensively. As if on cue, he fumbled the bamboo shoot he’d picked up in his chopsticks, splashing broth onto his face and chest plate as it fell into the bowl. Amrita nearly choked on her noodles. “Besides, punching stuff is way easier than using a tiny gun,” he added, dabbing at the mess with a serviette.

Rafael gave him a sarcastic look. The lack of eyebrows made it hard to read his facial expressions, but Sacha was definitely getting better at it.

He enjoyed these after-work hangouts. Although Rafael had initially proposed the sessions as a way to debrief the day’s events, they were gradually turning into an excuse to socialise in an environment where not everything was trying to kill them. 

It was Sacha’s shout this time; once they had finished their bowls, he paid at the counter, discreetly slipping a pair of chopsticks into his pocket. _I could use a pair at home, and besides, we always tip generously,_ he justified to himself.

The three of them walked out into the crisp air and headed back towards the Guardian barracks, their discussion having drifted towards the merits of tracking versus non-tracking rocket missiles. As they turned onto the main road running through the Guardian’s quarters, Amrita peeled off towards her apartment building, bidding Sacha and Rafael farewell. 

The pair continued along the path, dusk turning to night. As much as he loved Amrita’s company, Sacha had begun to savour any opportunity to be alone with Rafael; the turn-off to his building always seemed to come too soon.

Approaching Rafael’s apartment block, the exo paused and turned to Sacha, his yellow irises darting like fireflies under the darkening sky.

“I’ve got something I’d like to show you - do you have a minute to come up to my apartment?”

“Sure, I have no plans,” replied Sacha, slightly taken aback by the unexpected invitation. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he added.

“Not at all.” 

Rafael led him into the building and up a few flights of stairs. Punching in a code to the small terminal to the side of the doorway, he opened the front door. Warm light spilled out into the corridor as the automatic lights came to life.

The apartment was identical to Sacha’s, albeit much, _much_ tidier. A small kitchen ran along the left-hand wall - the countertops completely devoid of any clutter - with a living area to the right, containing a small sofa, a low table and a few cabinets. Two closed doors on the right-hand wall presumably led to a bedroom and bathroom. _Do exos even need bathrooms?_

“Dimi, why don’t you chat with Messier?” Rafael asked his Ghost, who puffed into existence over his shoulder. 

<< _Of course! Messier - it’s so good to see you…_ >>

<< _Likewise! I think we have a lot of catching up to do._ >> said Messier, conjuring himself up beside Dimi. The two Ghosts flew out the front door, shell segments spinning excitedly. Their voices faded from earshot as Rafael shut the door.

“In here.” Rafael opened the bedroom door, Sacha following behind, and walked over to a large metal cabinet pressed up against the far wall. Producing a datapad from a hidden pocket, he keyed in a combination. A shallow metal drawer opened slowly, the glow emanating from within illuminating Rafael's body in a cold, pale light as he lifted out a small gun. 

He turned around, proffering the gun to Sacha in his palms. “This is the Rat King - it’s a sidearm, but a little different to most you would’ve used before,” he said.

Sacha picked up the gun, running his fingers over the outlines of the metallic rats adorning its barrel as he flipped it over in his hands. Unlike the other sidearms he’d used, it had a satisfying weight to it; it felt good, heavy in his grip. Studying it closely, he thought he could see a faint red glow coming from the eye sockets of the skull at the barrel’s rear.

Suddenly aware of the silence, he lifted his head. Rafael was looking at him expectantly.

“Damn. This is a cool gun,” said Sacha lamely. “Where did you get it from?”

“I picked it up after I helped Sloane locate a methane reactor core on Titan.”

“How did you find the time for that?” asked Sacha, handing the gun back. “I barely have enough time to _sleep_ , let alone do extra missions.”

Rafael turned around to replace the gun in the drawer, sliding it shut with a quiet _click_.

“That’s just the thing, actually,” he replied. “I don’t really need sleep. Not in the same way you flesh-and-blood humans do, anyway. You might have noticed that there’s no bed in here.”

Sacha looked around. A desk, a few more cabinets, shelves displaying a collection of helmets - but no bed. 

“Huh.”

He watched Rafael as he delicately returned the datapad to its concealed pocket. Sacha was about to make an excuse to head home when Rafael broke the silence.

“Listen, we don’t have to be anywhere early tomorrow - would you like to stay for a drink?”

Sacha’s heart skipped a beat. “Sure,” he said.

“I’m going to change out of my armour. Make yourself comfortable in the living room.”

Sitting on the couch, Sacha bounced a leg up and down, fruitlessly questioning his host’s intentions. _Surely he’s just trying to be friendly. But the way he was looking at me before… no, no. There’s no way-_

Rafael reappeared in the living room, donning a T-shirt and tracksuit pants.

“Do you drink whisky?” he asked. 

“Uhh, sure,” answered Sacha, thrown off-kilter by the sight of Rafael’s figure, metal plates and bionic tissue just visible beneath the shirt’s pale fabric. He looked so much smaller without his armour.

His back to Sacha, Rafael produced two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid from a kitchen cupboard. As he poured the whisky, the synthetic muscles and tendons in his arms shifted and twitched like a tangle of restless snakes.

Realising he was staring at Rafael again, Sacha looked around the room, searching for something he could start a conversation with. He settled on a shelving unit a few feet from where he was sitting. 

“Are those… _books_?”

“Yes, they are - I’m a bit of a collector,” Rafael replied, replacing the whisky in the cupboard. “Mostly early 21st century - physical books fell out of fashion not long before the start of the Golden age, of course.” Handing Sacha a glass, Rafael sat down beside the titan.

“What are they about?”

“All sorts of things. Fiction, mostly, but there are a few history books in there. Obviously, I’ve had to translate them from the ancient languages - English, French, Chinese... it’s difficult work, but I enjoy it.”

Sacha laughed. “You have to be the most warlock-like hunter I’ve ever met.”

Rafael smiled and shrugged. “Just something to keep my mind occupied.”

He sank his frame into the couch, letting his head flop back over the headrest as he closed his eyes. Sacha suddenly felt very self-conscious about his broad shoulders, which he was sure were taking up more than half the width of the sofa; but if Rafael minded, he didn’t show it.

Shifting forwards, elbows on his knees, Rafael took a sip of the whisky. “I got this whisky from the Farm. It’s surprisingly good, given that they’ve only been making it for a few years.” he said. 

Sacha took a small sip, the slick liquid burning his throat as he swallowed. He did not, in fact, enjoy whisky - but it would have been rude to decline. 

Rafael leaned back into the couch, sighing in contentment, and rested his head on the titan’s pauldron.

Sacha froze.

“Are you, uhh, alright there?” he said eventually. “The metal can’t be comfortable…”

Rafael chuckled softly. “It’s fine. _I’m_ made of metal too, you know,” he said, softly, shifting closer to Sacha. The exo’s warmth began to radiate through his thick armour.

Internally, Sacha was panicking. He desperately wanted to reciprocate, but part of him was still convinced that he was just being friendly -

That particular part of his brain stopped its yelling as soon as Rafael placed a hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

_Oh._

The silence was punctuated only by the subtle rhythm of Rafael’s internal fans as he breathed. In. Out. In. Out.

“You seem very tense,” said Rafael as he lifted his head to face Sacha, a hint of concern in his voice.

Having felt as though he’d been holding his breath for an eternity, Sacha exhaled, and gave a nervous laugh. 

“I’m fine. I just… wasn’t expecting this.”

“Is this what you want? I can stop, if you-”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean - yes, it’s fine,” he stammered.

Rafael placed his glass down on the coffee table, and took Sacha’s hand in both of his own, thumbs drawing circles on the metal plating of his gauntlets. 

“I’ve been wanting this for a while,” he said.

“...So have I.” Sacha’s face relaxed into a smile. “Y’know, I had no idea. Sometimes I thought you didn’t even like me _at all_. Guess I’m bad at reading exos.”

Rafael laughed. “You, on the other hand, are an open book. I could tell from the day that Knight took you down on Titan. Plus,” he added, as Sacha’s face turned bright red, “Dimi just told me. He’s been chatting to Messier - word travels quickly on the Ghost network, it seems.”

_Drone bastard_.

Placing his own glass on the table, Sacha gently removed his hand from Rafael’s, instead taking one of the exo’s in his own. Without any gauntlets to protect it, the hand seemed so small; it felt oddly delicate for something made from polymer and alloy. He could feel the softness of the silicone pads of his fingertips through his gloves.

Rafael sighed, breaking the silence. “I’d love for you to stay longer, but it’s pretty late. You should get some rest. The strike tomorrow is going to be tough,” he said, coming to his feet. 

“Yeah, you're probably right,” said Sacha. He stood up and yawned, stretching his arms. 

Rafael walked him to the door. 

About to step out, Sacha paused, ever so briefly, as the two locked eyes. Whilst Sacha was internally debating whether it would be too much to give him a hug - or touch his hand, maybe - Rafael leaned into him, crown of his head coming to rest at Sacha’s chin height, a hand on the titan’s chest plate. Internally grateful to him for making the first move, Sacha wrapped his arms around Rafael’s torso.

“I’m really glad you came.” The exo's voice sent subtle vibrations through Sacha's chest.

"Me too," said Sacha, smiling.

He moved his hands down to Rafael’s hips as the exo pulled his head away, looking up into his eyes. After the briefest of pauses, he lifted his head towards Sacha’s.

A shower of tingles cascaded through Sacha’s body as they kissed. He could taste the subtle hint of whisky on Rafael’s metal lips. 

All too soon, Rafael pulled away gently. “See you tomorrow, Sacha,” he said.

Sacha’s arms slid down to hold Rafael’s hands. “See you, Rafael,” he said, before reluctantly letting them go.

In a slightly intoxicated state of nervousness, excitement and euphoria, Sacha walked back to his apartment with a spring in his step, trying to convince himself that what had just happened wasn’t a dream. He was halfway there when it occurred to him he’d forgotten something.

“Messier?”

<<Y _es, Sacha?_ >> he replied, nervously; he knew when he was in trouble.

“We need to talk.”

* * *

His reverie is interrupted by the automatic lights flickering to life, filling the darkening room with warm light.

Sacha smiles to himself. _I was such an awkward idiot back then._ In his chest, he can feel the constant undercurrent of hopeful anxiety he felt when he was alone with Rafael, the warm, restless energy that coursed through his body when Rafael touched him, when they kissed that first time…

All too soon, the warmth of the memory is replaced by a visceral, yet familiar, emptiness.

He shuts his eyes as his breathing becomes shallow. 

_Inhale. Exhale._

His mind stilled, he replaces the chopsticks in the box. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacha and Rafael's last assignment as a fireteam doesn't go exactly as planned.

The next compartment houses a neatly folded parcel of purple fabric. It unfurls into a large banner, about half Sacha’s height. A smile touches the corner of his mouth. _Aah, I can remember this…_ He once again unfolds the note beneath.

_Sacha stole this Eliksni banner from one of Spider’s lairs during the last assignment our fireteam was given before we went our separate ways..._

* * *

The banner wasn’t coming down as easily as he’d thought it would. Giving it a hard yank, Sacha nearly lost his balance as it finally came free, the loud _riiip_ echoing off the earthen walls of the tunnel.

“Sacha? You alright back there?” came Amrita’s hushed voice over the fireteam radio.

“Yep, just a sec!”

He frantically stuffed the banner behind his breastplate, like a child afraid to be caught stealing from a toy shop. _I should probably give it a wash_ , he thought, as he wiped the grime from hands on his legs.

<< _Oh my_ God _, Sacha. You’re too sentimental for your own good._ >>

“Shut up,” hissed Sacha.

Rounding the corner, he saw the rest of the team gathered around a round metal door at the end of the tunnel. Amrita lifted a finger to her lips, her features cast in the dim red light illuminating the tunnel. “They’re in there,” she whispered, nodding her head towards the door. 

“Sacha. Nice of you to join us,” murmured Rafael, turning to Sacha. “We’ll stick to the usual strategy. You’ll take out the heavy Cabal - the Gladiators and the Centurions. I’ll deal with the Psions that they’ll send in to flank us.”

“I’ll handle the Legionaries, and save my Nova Bomb for the big guy,” said Amrita. 

“Got it. And what will… you… be doing? Sorry, I’ve forgotten your names.” said Sacha, turning towards the two Vandals standing slightly apart from the rest of the fireteam, in an apparent effort not to puncture any of their unlikely allies with the metre-long spikes adorning their backs and helmets. 

“Avrok and Arrha will back us up, taking out any Cabal we miss and keeping an eye on the door in case reinforcements arrive,” answered Rafael. 

_Click._ “Are you in yet?” came a gruff, impatient voice over the radio.

“Not yet, Spider. We’ll let you know when we’re finished,” said Amrita, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, hurry up. The sooner I get that base back, the better.” The transmission ended with a second _click._

“Everyone ready?” said Rafael, conjuring Dimi. Sacha and Amrita gave a thumbs-up; Avrok and Arrha nodded, restlessly shifting their grips on their weapons. Sacha was by no means an expert in Fallen body language, but if he had to guess, the Vandals didn’t look like they wanted to be there. 

Rafael’s Ghost flew over to the console beside the doorway, and got to work hacking the security system. In the pregnant pause that followed, Sacha could just hear the baritone grunts from the Cabal guarding the other side of the door beneath the _hum_ of the electric lamps.

The top and bottom halves of the door opened up like a pair of smooth metal jaws. Rafael darted through the door, immediately stabbing the Legionary who’d drawn the short straw for guard duty that day. He took a hard left, his dark figure disappearing into the gloom as he ran along the raised walkway bordering the cave. Meanwhile, alarmed grunts and shouts erupted from a group of Legionaries crowding around what looked like a supply cache as Amrita’s Void grenade landed in the middle of the chamber. Sacha ran into the fray, taking advantage of a Centurion’s stunned surprise to unload a round of shot into its torso. _We make a great team,_ he thought. _I’m going to miss this._

Finishing off his ninth Centurion with a fist of Void Light, he swivelled his head to scan the room. Having dealt with the last of the Legionaries on her side of the room, Amrita was recovering in a rift, taking the opportunity to reload her rifle; Rafael was nowhere to be seen. Eyes darting around as he tried to quell the panic rising within - _I’m sure he’s fine, he’s probably nearby, it’s so hard to see him in the dark -_ Sacha heard a strangled cry from behind. 

Avrok ( _or is that Arrha?_ ) had fallen to their knees, ether spraying from a severed arm, cowering before a Gladiator that had somehow made its way back to the entrance. Too far away to intervene, Sacha looked on helplessly as the Gladiator raised a blood-stained pair of cleavers above its head for the final blow.

In the dim light of the cave, Sacha could just make out the Solar glow of the throwing knife as it sailed through the air. The Gladiator stumbled forwards as the knife buried itself in the sinewy flesh of its back, the impact interrupting the twin arcs of its blades in their downward strokes. Rafael appeared from the darkness just as the beast turned to face its new assailant. Coming to a skidding stop, he unloaded a round of sidearm bullets into its thick torso; but the Gladiator was unfazed, and readied its cleavers for another attack. 

Sacha sprinted towards the scene, fruitlessly firing his hand cannon at the Gladiator in an attempt to draw its attention, slamming his fist into the Legionaries and Psions unlucky enough to get in his way. 

Each magazine Rafael unloaded into the beast seemed only to stoke the Gladiator’s fury; even with his agility and deftness, he was only just managing to clear the beast’s attacks. He jumped to avoid a swipe to the legs, but a fraction of a second too late; he was thrown into the air, and landed awkwardly on his back with a dull thud. Frantically backing away, Rafael reflexively raised his hands to shield his face.

The sickening, screeching crunch of the Gladiator’s blades rent the air as they cleaved the exo’s chest, exposing a frenzy of wires and sheared fluid lines that sputtered coolant and oil onto the earthen floor. 

Sacha arrived just as Rafael’s optics flickered and faded to black.

The Gladiator had only just begun to turn to face him when Sacha slammed a fistful of Void Light into its head, shattering its skull. 

* * *

The _hiss_ of pressurised air exiting the bullet-riddled body suit of the slain Centurion at his feet jerked him back to reality. He was standing in the middle of the cavern; dead Cabal dotted the ground, pools of blood gathering in the troughs and valleys of the uneven floor like dark mirrors.

He turned to see the rest of his fireteam gathered around the doorway. Crouched before the Vandal that had been attacked by the Gladiator, Rafael was dressing their bloody stump with bandages.

Sacha started towards them, trying not to get blood on his boots as he gingerly stepped over the lifeless bodies. “Well, we can tell Spider his cave is officially Cabal-free,” he said, breaking the silence.

“What was _that_ , Sacha?” asked Amrita, wide-eyed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that… _angry_ before. I don’t know how you managed to take out the big one single-handedly - I didn’t even get a chance to throw my bomb!”

Sacha gave a nervous laugh. “I just wanted to make our last mission together… memorable, I guess.”

Having finished attending the Vandal’s wound, Rafael stood up, slipping his miniature first-aid kit into a hidden pocket on his thigh.

“Are… they… okay?” asked Sacha, noting the slight tremor in the Fallen’s body, curled up on the floor. The other Vandal sat close by, murmuring to their companion in that strange language of theirs. 

“He’ll be fine - just shaken, I think. The limb will grow back,” replied Rafael.

_Click._ “Done yet?” barked a voice over the radio.

Amrita rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Spider. It’s all yours now.”

“Good, good… you’d better not have damaged anything in there, or I’ll be sending an invoice to the Vanguard.” _Click._

“The way he talks to us, you’d never know we were doing him a favour!” said Amrita.

<< _Let’s just hope he doesn’t keep a detailed inventory of his linens._ >> chirped Messier in Sacha’s ear.

* * *

“My head hurts,” said Sacha. 

“Well, you _did_ drink a lot of beer,” pointed out Rafael, opening the front door to his apartment.

“I knew I shouldn’t have tried to keep up with Amrita…” replied Sacha, making a beeline towards the couch. He sank into the cushions, theatrically taking his head into his hands.

Shutting the front door, Rafael’s voice took on a more serious tone. “You seemed a bit distracted this evening,” he said, sitting down beside Sacha. “Is everything alright?”

It had taken him a solid year, but Sacha was finally getting the hang of reading Rafael’s facial expressions. From the tilt of his head and the angles of his mechanical eyelids, it was obvious that he was concerned.

“Yes!” he said, slightly exasperated, as Rafael took one of his hands. He sighed. “Well… I dunno. Maybe not.”

He sighed again, rubbing an eye with the palm of his hand. “I thought I would get used to seeing you die all the time. I really thought I would. I _know_ that you’ll be rezzed, I _know_ that you’ll be fine, but there’s still a part of my brain that thinks _what if?_ , and it just gets worse and worse every time it happens,” he stammered, his voice wavering like a stream over a rocky river bed. “Sometimes, when I look at you, all I can see is your twisted, broken body, and I just-” he trailed off, his voice breaking as tears beaded at the corners of his eyes. 

He swallowed, forcing down the lump in his throat. “Today, when the Gladiator killed you - I saw the whole thing happen, and there was nothing I could do, I just - I felt so _helpless,_ and I can’t remember what happened after that, I blacked out again-”

“Hey. Hey,” said Rafael gently, grabbing both of Sacha’s hands. “I’m still here, Sacha. I’m still here."

He lowered his eyes. “I _know_ how hard this is for you. It’s hard for me, too. Seeing the only person I love die. I’m leaving the fireteam for a reason. Besides,” he added, “my death today was not for nothing. It was either going to be me or Arrha; the Eliksni only get one life. The choice wasn’t mine to make - I did what needed to be done.”

He lifted his hands to cradle Sacha’s face, and kissed him gently on the forehead. “But you won’t have to see me die ever again.”

Sacha wrapped his arms around the exo’s small frame, pulling him close.

Rafael rested his head against the titan’s chest. He could just hear the damped pulse of his organic heart through the titan’s thick breastplate. 

He smiled, lifting his head. “Just remember, I won’t be around to take care of you anymore.” He poked playfully at the dents and scrapes in Sacha’s armour. “From now on, you’re going to have to find someone else to help you up when you faint.” 

“Hey! That was one time,” said Sacha defensively. “Now that you mention it, I need to get out of this sweaty armour,” he said, releasing Rafael from his embrace to take off his gauntlets. 

He stood up, pausing as his hands moved to undo the clasps of his breastplate. “Oh! I forgot, I got you a little something to commemorate our last ever mission together as a fireteam,” he said, yanking out the stolen banner like a clown pulling hankerchiefs from a pocket. “No idea what Fallen House it belongs to, but I thought you could use a little decoration,” he said, gesturing at the empty walls of the apartment. 

“ _Eliksni_ house, you mean,” corrected Rafael. “and, err, thank you, Sacha! I’m sure it will look nice in my bedroom. Speaking of which,” he said, standing up. “I have a present for you, too.”

He gestured towards the bedroom. Sacha opened the door, his eyes widening as he saw what lay inside.

“You got a bed!”

“I thought it would be nice if you could stay over,” said Rafael, leaning on the doorway.

He turned back to Rafael. “That _would_ be nice,” he said, giving him a kiss on his forehead. 

Sacha hastily stripped down to his cloth undersuit and sat down on the bed. “Nice and soft,” he said, giving it an appraising bounce with his palms. 

“Well, I was going to go for the slab of concrete, but then I remembered you’re made of skin and meat, not steel and carbon-reinforced polymer composite, so I went for the softer option,” said Rafael dryly, stripping off the last of his armour.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever actually _used_ a bed before-” Rafael was halfway through his sentence when Sacha picked him up and spun around, laying the exo down on the bed. He climbed in beside him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“This is what we humans refer to as _spooning,_ ” said Sacha, nuzzling the exo’s neck.

“Is it, now?” Rafael let out a content sigh. “I could get used to this.”

* * *

Tears well in his eyes; cursing to himself under his breath, he slams the lid of the box shut.

_I should have just thrown all these things away._

Leaving the memories untouched, like artefacts left to gather dust in a distant corner of his mind, was easier than dealing with the inevitable sorrow that attached itself to each recollection. Over the years, he had become adept at suppressing any recollection of Rafael that surfaced in his mind, automatically deflecting every painful reminder of his absence _._ But the years of repression only rendered the memories - and the pain - more potent; reliving each one was like lifting a rock to reveal a festering mass of venomous insects.

He lifts his eyes to look out the window. The yellow lights from the City below puncture the inky blackness of the night, bright pinpoints flickering in and out of view in the turbulent air.

Returning his gaze to the box before him, he steels his resolve, as if surrendering himself to duty. _One item left. It would only be fair to Rafael._

He opens the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been hitting me hard these last couple of weeks... hopefully I'll have time to finish the last couple of chapters in the next month.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the most stalwart of titans can only take so much.

The last compartment is small, no larger than Sacha’s thumb. With some effort, he pries out a small, rectangular device made of plastic, a metal socket protruding from one end. His eyes widen as he recalls where he’s seen it before; the scene surges from the depths of his memory, flooding his mind’s eye before he has a chance to unfold the note.

* * *

“When you said you wanted to take me somewhere special-” Sacha paused, using his sword to clumsily hack through a particularly thick vine blocking the hallway - “this isn’t exactly what came to mind.”

“It will be worth it. I promise.”

Catching up to Rafael - who’d been able to deftly manoeuvre his much smaller body around much of the plant matter and Hive growths blocking the path - Sacha looked over his shoulder into the dark passage behind them. “This place gives me the creeps. I keep expecting a Thrall to jump out at me.”

“Don’t worry - there aren’t any Hive here anymore. We cleaned them out a few weeks ago.”

The dank, cold air of the Arcology was beginning to make Sacha wish he was back at the City, curled up with Rafael on his couch, the way they spent most of their evenings when they were both home. He treasured those nights, which had seemed to become less and less frequent over the years as Rafael was tasked with lengthier - and more dangerous - missions. Sacha dreaded the thought that he would be chosen as the next hunter Vanguard - something he prayed to the Traveller would never happen, not after what happened to Cayde.

That said, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss roaming around the System; and besides, it had been a while since he’d been anywhere but the Farm or the Tower.

A soft green glow signalled the end of the passage up ahead. Footsteps echoing on the tile floor, the pair walked into a cavernous chamber, illuminated by the pale light filtering through algae-stained glass panels far above their heads. Before them was a grand set of stairs leading to a raised platform, its edge curtained with flowering vines and wayward roots.

Rafael climbed the first step. He turned around, offering Sacha his hand, a wry just smile visible through his visor. Sacha daintily took the exo’s hand, and let him lead the way.

The deep green of the canopy crowned overhead as they reached the top of the stairs. Although the area had clearly been intended to be some sort of park, centuries of uncontrolled growth had transformed the area into a verdant forest. Thick roots and vines draped lazily over the remains of the concrete planter boxes once containing them. Dappled light from above filtered through the dense leaves, illuminating the pink and yellow flowers sprinkling the shrubs beneath. Bioluminescent fungi growing on the gnarled tree trunks became visible as Sacha’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, lending a subtle blue glow to the undergrowth.

Sacha followed Rafael along the walkway skirting the forest, leading them towards a tall, white building. Set into the wall of the chamber, the structure formed a half-pyramid of stacked terraces, undulating in and out in organic curves.

“I trust that in all those years of training new Guardians, you haven’t forgotten how to jump,” said Rafael. Before Sacha could deliver a rebuttal, the hunter had used all three of his Light-boosted jumps to hop up to the first terrace.

Sacha made it - just - to the lip of the first terrace, landing on a balcony. He looked out over the huge chamber, panting from the exertion. Noticing a slight movement in the treetops, he hushed his voice, automatically reaching for his weapon. “Are you sure we’re alone in here?”

“I have a friend keeping an eye out for us,” said Rafael, walking over to the railing. “We have... an arrangement. _Misraaks - velask_!” he shouted, waving an arm.

A tall, spindly figure emerged at the edge of the forest below, gangly limbs shrouded in a deep red fur-lined cloak.

“ _Velask_ , Rafael-6,” the Captain’s rough voice echoed, waving one of his arms that wasn’t holding a sword, before returning to the shadows of the trees.

“I didn’t know you could speak Eliksni!” said Sacha.

Rafael chuckled. “I’ve picked up a few phrases over the years. Makes negotiation... easier, even if we can’t pronounce most of the consonants.”

“Only a few more,” said Rafael, leaping to the next level with ease before Sacha had the chance to probe him any further about his language skills. Sacha cursed under his breath. Training Kinderguardians was a rewarding job, make no mistake; but it wasn’t the most demanding job in terms of physical fitness.

He followed Rafael, terrace after terrace, until he realised they’d made it to the top. “This had better be worth it,” he panted, hands on his knees.

“In here.” Rafael strolled over to the wall of glass panels lining the building. The glass was surprisingly clean - Sacha guessed that it had some special Golden-age coating resistant to the lichen and algae that seemed to encrust every other surface on Titan.

Rafael slid open a glass panel. Automatic lights came to life as they entered the room, revealing a generously-sized bedroom. In contrast to the Arcology’s general state of disrepair, the furnishings were practically untouched, as if their owner would be back any minute.

Rafael slid the door closed and removed his hood. His helmet followed suit with the click of a button at the base of his neck. “It’s safe for you too, don’t worry - the air filtration systems in here still work.”

“I guess this must have been the penthouse, huh,” said Sacha, absorbing the scene as he removed his own helmet. “How did you find this place?”

“I came across it during my last mission here. Almost the entire building was infested with Hive - but for whatever reason, they never made it up here. Perhaps the location is too conspicuous.”

Producing something small and rectangular from a pocket, Rafael walked over to the small console on the bed-side table.

“I found a few memory disks scattered throughout the building. I thought they might contain data about the Arcology that would be useful to the Vanguard, but they only seem to contain… personal files. Music, images, videos. It’s lucky that the consoles still work - the files are encoded in some ancient Golden Age format that I’d never seen before.”

He inserted the small, flat disk into a slit in the side of the console, which came to life after a brief pause. After making a few selections on the touchscreen, a melancholy tune began to play. Sacha looked around, trying to locate the source of the music.

_Moon river, wider than a mile…_

“This is quite an old song, even for the Golden Age. Late-20th Century, I believe,” said Rafael, walking back to Sacha.

_I’ll be crossing you in style, someday…_

“It’s beautiful,” said Sacha quietly.

_Oh, dream maker, you heart-breaker…_

“I thought you’d like it,” Rafael replied.

_Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way…_

Sacha smiled. Taking the exo’s hand, he led Rafael to the oversized bed, and sat him in between his knees, facing outwards towards the balcony.

_Two drifters, off to see the world..._

Sacha gently kissed him on the cheek, before resting his chin on Rafael’s shoulder and slipping his arms around his waist.

_I’m not so sure the world deserves us…_

They gazed out into the pale blue expanse of the Arcology.

_We’re after the same rainbow’s end…_

Sacha sighed contentedly.

_It’s just around the bend…_

Nothing needed to be said.

_It’s just around the bend…_

It was a perfect moment.

* * *

A gentle _tap_ pierces the silence. Sacha is instantly returned to his empty apartment, which is now in complete darkness, save for the patch of moonlight half-illuminating Sacha and the items before him. He looks down to see the note has fallen from his hands, their grip slackened by the all-consuming power of the memory.

Slowly, the note unfurls.

_You discovered this memory disk, containing ancient music, during a routine trip to the Arcology. You aren’t known for being particularly romantic, but you brought Sacha back there as a surprise; you wanted to share with him the untouched Golden Age dwelling where you’d found the disk, a rare find on Hive-infested Titan._

_You were worried he wouldn’t like the song you chose - Moon River, which I understand was quite a well-known song in its time - but as soon as it started playing, you could see that look of playful wonder in his eyes, that unbridled joy in discovering something new, something beautiful… which reminded you why you fell for him all those years ago. You spent a while there, simply embracing one another. It was one of those special moments in which there is nothing that needs saying, in which all worries and anxieties momentarily disappear._

_This is a special memory, one I will cherish for as long as I live, and I fear my words will not do it justice._

_I wonder whether Sacha feels the same way._

For a brief moment, it’s all too much to bear; the wave of sorrow within him crests, and something within him - that final, weathered pillar of stoic denial - finally breaks. Every deflected emotion, every fragment of grief he’d ever denied himself, hits him all at once with the force of a tsunami.

Racking sobs begin to shake his body as tears stain the note. Tossing aside the disk and the note, he picks up Rafael’s tattered cloak and hugs it to his chest. He curls into a foetal position, burying his face in the fabric. Muted sobs fill the quiet apartment.

After a long while, having exhausted his supply of tears, throat aching from sobbing, his breathing steadies. As the sky begins to lighten outside, deep indigoes gradually giving way to violet and lilac hues on the horizon, he surrenders to the nothingness of a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was meant to finish this fic months ago, but that was before I moved house, had top surgery and started a new job, all within the span of a few months... which threw a bit of a spanner in the works, understandably. So here (finally) is chapter 5, the (most likely) penultimate chapter. Enjoy :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've ever written - I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it :)
> 
> Let me know what you think! More to come soon - chapters will be published on an approximate weekly basis.


End file.
